


dress me up with a glass of wine

by caitss



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Domestic Violence, Drinking to Cope, F/M, Gambling, Suicide (mentioned), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 08:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14374854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caitss/pseuds/caitss
Summary: Maki and Kaito look at Shuichi, and see the boy who has it made - if they could be him for a day, maybe everything would be okay.





	dress me up with a glass of wine

**Author's Note:**

> have a nice night

Kaito and Maki wanted to be like Shuichi.

It’s a secret want hidden deep inside both of them, buried underneath the bubbling self hate and the stench of alcohol. He had his depression, his horrible things happening to him, but he continued onward, his eyes shining and branded with truth. Shuichi could carry anyone on his frail shoulders, he juggled people’s emotions, careful with everyone and choosing his words cautiously. He never seemed to complain at all, and always helped out, even if it made him sore or extremely exhausted.

He could make miracles with his smiles, and could spin gold with his words of comfort and his laughter. Despite his problems, he never wasted away and burnt out his lungs, or destroyed his liver with swigs of beer, sloshing in a bottle. Shuichi is, to them, a inspiration, someone who could guide anyone through anything with his advice. And he lowered himself to be with scum like them, and chose them as his lovers. Shuichi is amazing, and he could light up every cold night. 

When he was alive. 

They found him in the bed they all shared, unmoving and a empty bottle of pills on the ground next to him. His suicide note was elegant, written in the same handwriting they’ve both seen over and over. Shuichi’s apologies, his constant ‘I love all of you’s in the note, and his dead body make it all feel so fucking surreal. But he’s dead. And there’s no changing that. 

Maki and Kaito didn’t expect grief to tear them apart. They fought so much, and struggled with burning alcohol and the lighting of a cigarette each night, screeching for someone to keep watch of them. Dinner was cold and small, eaten only partly and abandoned, to be thrown in the trash after. Both of them took turns cooking, but it all turned out the same, with tears and trauma and worthlessness running cold. It was endless, screaming over a dead boy until their throats were raw, and then chugging beer or gambling their paycheck away in hopes of a hollow jackpot.

One night, in the millions of nights where time stopped, Maki tells Kaito his cooking is disgusting. He stares at her, and spits out, “It’s not like yours is any better, so fuck off and eat. If you don’t want to, no one told you to.” She looks offended by this, biting her lip and scowling deeply. “It really is disgusting.” Maki murmurs, and Kaito sighs, agitated. He runs is hand through his hair, and eventually snaps back, “Y’know, if Shuichi was here, he wouldn’t be complaining. He dealt with people’s shit, unlike you.” 

Maki stands up, slamming her hands against the table. “What did you just say? Are you actually that pathetic, Kaito?” She’s gnashing her teeth together, and the boy feels some sick satisfaction, knowing he got to her. “You heard me, Harukawa. Shuichi was a better side kick than you’ll ever be,” Kaito spits out her name, his nickname for her fading into dust. “An’ call me Momota. You don’t deserve my first name anymore, with all the alcohol and fucking disappointment you bring back!” He’s pressing harder, already far beyond the line he should never cross. 

“You want to play like that? All you do is gamble your paychecks away, and leech off of me. So, if anyone’s disappointing, it’s you.” She growls back, low and gritty. Her breath reeks of alcohol. “That’s bullshit, and we all know it. I don’t leech off of you at all, because all you do is waste away on the couch, drinking a full bottle of beer an hour.” Kaito responds, standing as well. He’s so sick of this, so tired. His anger, his stress, his grief all engulf him at once, and he clenches his fists, knuckles raw from punching walls. He punches her right in the face, his knuckles colliding with her jaw. 

Maki makes a pained noise, but retaliates, elbowing him in the solar plexus and then punching him directly in the stomach. She picks up his plate, and tosses it at him, the thing shattering on his shoulder. He grabs a chair, the legs dragging at the ground as he tosses it at her. It smacks right into her, and she tumbles, blood dripping from her mouth. Kaito’s in no better shape - he is also spitting up blood, and heaving. She kicks the chair from off her, carnation eyes lit with a all too familiar blaze. Maki’s fast, her hands claps around his neck and she squeezes tightly, digging her nails into his skin. 

“You’ve lost.” Maki snarls, and as he chokes, he spits blood in her face. “G-go ahead...” Kaito sputters, “T-then you can h-have more blood on your hands.” Her eyes lose their blaze, and she looks more dazed, her hands releasing his neck. Kaito drops to the ground, his body sore and his lungs on the verge of collapsing. She stumbles backward, and turns away, running up the stairs. He hears a slam of a door, and that’s all.

The next day, Kaito goes to his room, getting his suitcase out. He folds all his clothes, throws in his bills, and throws all his necessities in. There was something so satisfying about dying his relationship red, painting it the color of vibrant blood. If all their candle lit dinners are now a house fire, then he will have to clear the table one last time. He closes the suitcase, clasping it shut and picking it up. His room - they had seperate rooms ever since Shuichi died - is bare, with no traces of life. He turns on his heel, pushes the door open, and loudly stomps down the stairs. 

Kaito wants her to know what she’s done, just because she couldn’t shut up and deal with things like Shuichi could. He approaches the front door, only to be stopped by a forceful hand, spinning him around. “Where are you going?” Maki hisses, gesturing violently towards his suitcase. “None of your god damn business.” Kaito retorts, ready to leave again. “You’re leaving. You - you fucking coward!” Maki shouts at him, anger burning her face and scorching her eyes. 

“I don’t fucking care! I’m tired of, of hanging onto a relationship that died the second he popped open that capsule! Fuck off - you’re the coward here! You can’t even face the truth.” Kaito roars back, his boiling anger reaching the brim. Both of them are covered in bruises, the solid wall of bubbling hate in between them. Maki clenches her fists, clearly wanting to crack his jaw, but she instead grounds out, “He wouldn’t have wanted this.”  
“Really? I didn’t fucking know! Shuichi deserved so much better than us - we’re assholes, and we’re only here because of him. What’s the point in moving on?”

“You- you’re a liar! You told us all those inspirational words, that you’d take the fall-“  
“Shuichi did the same! And y’know what? He’s dead.”  
“He should be here instead of you.”  
“We should both be dead. Not him, never him. But we’re fuck ups. He should be standin’ here, successful. But no - we’re both rotten leeches. There.” 

Maki stares at him, the emptiest of looks in her eyes. “You’re pathetic. I don’t know why I trusted you.” She spits out, and storms upstairs, the familiar sound of a slamming door in his ears. Kaito glares at where she went, and then takes his leave as well, throwing the door open and walking outside. 

The curtain falls, and the fairytale ends.

**Author's Note:**

> and for buying at this special bargain sale, i thank you for your precious service!!!


End file.
